


Like a Fine Wine

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman, Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Age Difference, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Morning After, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 03:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17717258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Robin worried about his advancing age.Warsman was an ageless chojin, who remained ever young even as he grew older, and Robin feared that he would lose his greatest lover and best friend. It was a baseless fear, but one that Warsman was happy to assuage.





	Like a Fine Wine

Warsman smiled . . .

It broke across his face-plate, bringing lines to his eyes. A beautiful glow overcame his dark skin, while his chest heaved with heavy pants, and – with sincere laughter – he lay back against the cool and sweat-soaked sheets with a motionless frame. The breeze from the window brushed against his flesh, sending goosebumps over the organic limbs. Robin rolled onto his side, as he watched with half-lidded eyes the naked body of his lover.

The sheets clung to him, as he moved, and the scent of sex filled his senses. He reached out with a trembling hand to that firm and muscular chest, where the heart beneath still raced from the force of endorphins and adrenaline. Robin smiled. He edged a little closer, with the mattress dipping a little with his weight. Warsman hummed and brought his hand over Robin’s, with his callused thumb running circles over loose and wrinkled flesh, and Robin – with a low hiss escaping his lips – clenched his heart and screwed shut his eyes.

“You are tense, my love,” whispered Warsman.

Robin chuckled. The birds chirped outside, while the sun rose high in the sky, and slowly light filled the room and cast light over his naked form . . . Robin kicked up the sheets. He slowly pulled them along his legs and covered his modesty, but – before he could bring them to his chin to hide the swelling of his belly – Warsman caught his wrist. The sheets remained locked in his clenched fist, half-hiding him and half-revealing him. The fist was brought to a soft pair of lips, half-dragging the sheets with him, and Warsman kissed them all over.

“Why do you hide from me, Robin?”

A low sigh escaped him, as Robin slid ever closer. He nuzzled against Warsman, with his face buried into the crook of that slender neck, and his hands ran over taut and sculpted muscles, while he kept his eyes locked closed. Warsman hummed and held him back . . . fingers tracing over age spots and scars, lips pressed to wrinkles and grey hairs . . . tears pricked at the corners of Robin’s eyes, as he breathed deep the scent of his lover. They entwined their legs and pressed flush to one another. Warsman was warm.

“I’ve aged over these years,” whispered Robin.

“Ah, is that what concerns you?”

“Every day I see myself in the mirror. Every day I see an old man.” Robin laughed. “You knew me back in my prime, where I won the Chojin Crown and was second only to Kinnikuman, and I could train you as an equal and a friend. You were attracted to _that_ man. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me now. My hair is white, my eyes cloudy, and my stamina . . . well . . . the less said about that the better. You can do better.”

“I could also do a lot worse. You are the friend that saw past my façade, the same facade that brought me nothing but misery and alienation, and you saw a soul with immense potential, enough that you helped me to better myself. You inspired me to be better, my love.”

“But look at you now! You age so much slower than any other Chojin, Nikolai. You’re still in your very peak . . . you could have any man you wanted, but instead you’re here with a weak old man that has more baggage than he can endure. Your muscles are strong, your skin so smooth, your stamina endless . . . why me? Why do you stay with me?”

“I stay with you because this _is_ you,” whispered Warsman. “I love you.”

Robin rolled onto his back. Warsman moved with him, until his head rested against Robin’s heart, and – with each and every slowing beat – he smiled and tapped out the rhythm with a firm hand on soft skin, forcing a low chuckle from Robin. The sheets were pulled over them, encasing them in a world of their own creation. A low hum escaped him. The sun mingled with their natural body heat, as they remained entwined with hands exploring every inch of skin, and tears pricked at the corners of Robin’s eyes, as he choked out:

“You would be better suited to Kevin over me.”

The tear barely had time to fall, before it was kissed away by soft lips. Warsman sat upright and astride Robin, as he knelt over him and took his hands with a gentle grasp, and again they were gifted with dozens of kisses, until Robin laughed and stroked at the soft cheek. Warsman nuzzled into the touch, before he leaned down to press their foreheads together and allowed them to share in a single breath. They gazed into each other’s eyes, while people talked and laugh from the gardens, and music drifted from afar. Robin asked:

“How can you bear to look at me?”

“Your age is not to your detriment,” swore Warsman. “Every scar is proof of a wound you survived, of a history you endured, and it is a testament to your strength. What can be more attractive than a capable and powerful man? Your lines tell the story of a man who laughs and frowns, which marks your humanity and passion and emotions.”

“Nikolai, I just –”

“Are you to deny your attractiveness? There is an old cliché, but clichés often are retold for the simple fact that they hold a fundamental truth . . . you have aged like a fine wine, Robin, in that you are all the richer and more vibrant with each passing day. I love you.”

Tears sparked afresh. Robin laughed through them, as he wrapped his arms around Warsman and pulled him flush against him, and trailed kisses down his neck and shoulders, before – with a long pause, eyes locked once more – both broke into warm laughter. Lips met. A quick intake of breath preceded the racing of his heart, as he instinctively arched his back and parted his legs, and the heat and passion of the kiss left him on the verge of something more, until he pulled away and panted. Warsman looked to him with blown pupils.

“You make me feel so young,” whispered Robin.

Warsman kissed him again, but this time it was slow . . . filled with love, desire, and promise . . . as if it were their first kiss all over, with the same trepidation and excitement mingling until it felt as if his heart might burst. The clock beside the bed had stopped, leaving them locked together in a timeless state. Robin wanted to etch the moment into his memory, as tears fell freely over his cheeks and into his grey temples. Warsman promised:

“You are eternally young to me.”


End file.
